


Fresh Start

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the anon who requested “college Crisscolfer where Chris finds Darren really annoying at first until he finally gets under his skin”.  Also, <a href="http://dragontamerblaine.tumblr.com/">dragontamerblaine</a>, the CC smutty stuff you asked for is in here.  ;)</p>
<p>Warnings for: very brief recreational drug use (blink and you’ll miss it) and a wee bit of rough sex (toppy!Chris, but it’s not the focus).</p>
<p>The duet they sing is <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yDIH4GTjbU">“Looking for Romance (I Bring You a Song)”</a> from Bambi.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fresh Start

"You think you're real hot shit, don't you?" are the first words that Chris says to Darren.

It's--not exactly the most promising start. At least, it isn't the way that Darren had hoped to finally meet the adorable, dorky looking kid from down the hall with the Chewbacca backpack and the Marvel comics t-shirts.

It doesn't really help matters that Darren is about twenty percent unintentional asshole and eighty percent eager to please, because his reply, instead of being "no I am actually pretty fucking cool, what's up?" or "your hair looks like you slept funny this morning, hi my name is Darren," is a slightly offended, "Well fuck you very much!" with a matching grin that completely contradicts his tone.

Yeah. He fucking wins at first impressions.

Chris rolls his eyes. "Some of us have better things to do than sit around the common area playing an acoustic guitar loud enough so that the whole floor has to hear it. Some of us actually have to study to pass."

Before Darren can apologize Chris turns and stalks back down the hallway, and he's left feeling pissed off and disappointed. 

Despite the fact that they are both arts majors their minors are completely different, so they don't see each other outside of 101 classes, which hasn't provided Darren with the opportunity to convince Chris that he isn't the spoiled rich kid from a privileged liberal upbringing that he knows Chris is convinced he is. 

They have enough mutual friends for Darren to know how Chris feels, despite the fact that they've never spoken--until now. It kind of hurts, for reasons that he hasn't quite been able to flesh out. He just hates it when people assume shit, and hates it even more when they use that assumption to judge him and spread hate about him at every available opportunity.

He knows from talking to Ashley that Chris is having a hard time settling in but fuck, man, that isn't his problem. He still feels bad about it, though, as if it's his job to, like, fix things--at least fix whatever has gone wrong between them, which, let's face it, he's kind of fucking clueless about.

From day once they've just constantly gotten in each other's way without even having officially met, landing them in that uncomfortable unfriendly zone that Darren has trouble navigating. He just doesn't get it when people don't like him because he sort of likes almost everyone until they give him a reason not to.

 

*

 

So, alcohol will fix everything. At least that's the plan. 

He's going to drink and Chris is going to drink and they will finally talk, and Darren will figure out what the fuck he has to do to convince Chris to agree to a do over.

He shoves pink sunglasses back through the sloppy mess of his curls, tugs his t-shirt smooth, stands a little taller and grabs a red Solo cup full of cheap, watery beer.

He is so ready for this. He can charm the pants off of this guy.

"Oh my god could you look like any more of a stereotype?" Chris asks bitchily when he approaches, eyes raking over his outfit.

Okay. Okay, what the fuck.

"Hello, Christopher. What a lovely evening this is. Your hat is enchanting. How are you?" he babbles, eyebrows up, and a determined look on his face.

Chris sighs and the guy talking to him looks back and forth between them as if to say well I have no idea what's going on here.

Darren looks back at him as if to reply, neither do I, friend.

"Would you uh, excuse us for a second?" is what he says aloud.

"Sure thing, man," the guy replies, obviously eager to not get involved in their drama.

"So," Darren says when they are alone.

Chris' face is blotchy with embarrassment, but otherwise he's--well. He looks really good. He's wearing a purple button down and a pair of dark wash jeans that hug every inch of his long, long legs and round ass, and boots that lace to his knee.

He reaches out and pokes Darren's sunglasses so that they fall forward over his eyes. 

"You can make fun of my appearance some more if that gets your engines revved," he says sarcastically, a huge grin on his face. "You seem to really like that and I find it completely and totally fair and cool and awesome that you do it."

"Okay," Chris sighs, looking flustered. "Can we talk, like, somewhere else?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Darren answers.

They find a corner of the backyard of the party house where no one is vomiting or smoking or having really gross half-naked sexy time. It still smells kind of funny but Darren thinks that has more to do with the dogs these people keep and how little they pick up after them. And maybe the full garbage cans in the driveway. Gross. The things he does for free booze and the chance to play songs for anyone who will stand still long enough to hear them, fuck.

And now that they're alone and he's had enough beer to make him loose he asks the one question he's wanted to ask for months. 

"What's your problem with me?"

Chris puts his cup on the lawn at his feet. He's fidgeting, obviously uncomfortable; he hugs his elbows around his middle and looks anywhere but at Darren.

"I thought you--are you being serious right now wanting to talk to me?" His cheeks go even darker.

"Uh, yes?" Darren answers. "I've been trying to talk to you for weeks."

"I--I thought you didn't like me." He licks his lips. "That first week you brushed me off so many times, and then someone told me you were making fun of my--of my clothes--and of my submission to our screenplay writing class--"

Darren has no fucking idea what Chris is talking about. "Are you--who told you that?"

"One of the girls from your theater group. I think she left because I haven't seen her in a while."

All he can do is blink and stare. "Man, I dress like a kid whose entire wardrobe is the result of free t-shirt giveaways, why the fuck would I make fun of you?" He tilts his head, flabbergasted. "I own two pairs of shoes." He rushes to add, "And I loved your script, Harry Potter is like, my freaking favorite, man."

Chris blinks over watery green-blue eyes and--barks a laugh, sudden and high-pitched and overwhelmed, putting the back of his hand over his mouth. His whole face crinkles when he laughs, around the eyes and mouth, creating laugh lines and dimples that make Darren weak.

Now this is more like it. This feels like success.

"I--I can be kind of an asshole," he explains. "Um. I have a lot of friends and sometimes when new people show up I--miss them, or--but I didn't make fun of your clothes, or anything else, I promise."

He isn't sure whether Chris believes him or not, but at least he's getting some eye contact, and if he isn't mistaken that's a smile.

"Okay," Chris says, taking a deep breath. "I'll consider it a fresh start if you can help me find something better than this pissy beer to drink."

"You look like a bourbon man to me," Darren says with an approving nod, and slings an arm around Chris' shoulders.

 

*

 

They become friends, real friends, over the course of the first semester. There are times when it's weird--Chris is sensitive and protective of his privacy and Darren tends to talk without thinking about what he's going to say, but for the most part they grow to like each other.

They have a lot in common, and Darren isn't beneath polling Chris' close friends for ways to win him over--his favorite food, his favorite movie, singing him songs that he likes, learning to ask after his sister every now and then but not too often.

Once he gets past that initial barrier of getting-to-know-you, Chris lets him in in small, comfortable ways, mostly physical ones. He can put a hand on Chris' leg or arm or shoulder and not get that knee jerk twitch that Chris often displays when they hang out with strangers.

It's the best thing ever, except for the part where Darren thinks he might have a bit of a crush.

This isn't really something he planned on. He's always had an open mind when it comes to attraction, though it's never really been tested with guys, and--it's weird. 

Chris is special. He doesn't fit any mold that Darren is aware of--he's the combination of so many different things. He's an old man in a teenager's body. He's a geek. He knows nothing about fashion but he tends to always look ridiculously put together when he has to be. He's gay but he's not really interested in making that the hallmark of his life and he never talks about it and he isn't involved with any of the LGBTQ groups on campus. He's obsessed with British royalty in ways that Darren is obsessed with writing music.

He's probably the coolest, most unique person that Darren has ever met. He's different, and Darren finds that intoxicating.

Which is why it would be a really bad fucking idea to hit on him or try to hook up with him and fail and ruin everything they've managed to salvage over the last few months.

But the idea is there, like a seed planted in soil too fertile to not support life. 

He knows himself very well, knows what the heat at the back of his neck and ears means when Chris thoughtlessly leans into his arm or his side when they stand next to each other. He knows what it means when his belly swoops when Chris comes over wearing a shirt that's a little too tight across his chest, or jeans that hug his ass amazingly well. He knows that when they party it's becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to drunkenly shove their mouths together.

Fuck. Shit.

What is he going to do?

 

 

*

 

The first time that Darren sees Chris hook with another guy at a party, it sends him to a very nasty place. 

He gets trashed and throws up and spends half the night on the floor of a bathroom that isn't even his. Lauren rescues him and they have a Very Serious talk, him sitting on the floor smoking cigarettes and her on the toilet lid, and the end result is her telling him to get off his ass and tell Chris before it's too late.

It kind of doesn't work. Darren has convinced himself that Chris is beyond his reach, and Chris thinks he's straight and god how the hell would that conversation go because he's kind of only ever been with girls and Chris will just think he wants to experiment, and he isn't going to say anything when he's this drunk, anyway, because "well I think I might have feelings for you as well as for boobs" would probably get him slapped.

Shit.

Everything he feels is confirmed when he watches Chris grind against this random dude, when Darren notices them making out in the corner of the room later, when Chris waves him off when he asks if Chris needs a ride home with "no, I'm gonna crash here".

He knows what that means, and the little brunette attached to Chris' throat by the mouth does, too.

Fuck, it hurts.

It hurts way more than it should, and way more than he wants it to. His crush has morphed so rapidly into feelings that he's got whiplash. He wants to drink whiskey and skip class and eat a cake with Joey until he can't fit anymore into his stomach. He might actually write a song about it (Chris, not the cake).

That last one is how he knows he's really in trouble.

 

*

 

They're eating lunch at the cafeteria.

"So, I have something to run by you," Darren says.

Chris puts down his pizza and eyes him. "That sentence has gotten me in trouble before."

"How was I supposed to know the softball team was naked?" Darren asks incredulously.

"Okay. Go ahead." Chris sighs.

"My friend Vanessa plays violin adaptations of Disney songs--medleys, mostly. She's doing this one song--a duet--and she asked me to help her out."

Chris chews. "Is this like, a school thing or...?"

"It's something she's recording to turn in, but the performance is going to be in the quad."

"Okay. That's cool. Do you want me to go with?"

"Actually," Darren says, fiddling frenetically with his straw. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in singing the female half of the duet?"

Chris' face goes slowly blotchy. He sits back in his chair. "And why would you think I'd want to do that?"

God, he is going to fuck this up. 

"I--I know you can sing, okay?" he says, mind spinning to try to figure out some way of continuing without freaking Chris out. "Ashley told me that you were in the chorus for a few weeks before the professor pissed you off about your vocals and you left."

"That's really none of your business, Darren," Chris sighs, clearly agitated.

"I don't care what some moron teacher says about you being 'untrainable'. I think the fact that you're a countertenor is fucking amazing and I want to sing with you. Please?" He's halfway to puppy eyes, and fully aware of their power.

"I'm not--it's--" He lisps, and looks embarrassed, and composes himself again. "I'm not so good with performing in public."

"Let's just rehearse for now and we can worry about that later?" It's a stretch, but Chris just looks thoughtful and takes another bite of pizza.

When they're throwing away their trash he tilts his head and asks, "What's the song?"

"'Looking for Romance' from Bambi," Darren says.

He catches the full-on blush that spills across Chris' cheeks and smiles, soft and slow, at his feet.

 

*

 

The first time they sing the song together they're alone in an empty music room that Darren had managed to get one of his professors to loan him in between classes. 

Chris is nervous, clutching his sheet music and fidgeting with his hair, which Darren has come to realize by now means that he would really rather be elsewhere.

"So, I re-wrote the ranges, obviously--um. The lyrics are really simple. I could get my violin but I think for now it'll be easier to learn on the piano. Vanessa'll be taking care of the music, anyway." He motions to it, and sits down. Chris stands next to the piano, straightening his back and pushing out his diaphragm.

He probably should've given this a dry run by himself before they decided to start singing together, he thinks.

Well, shit. It's too late now.

"I bring you a song, and I sing as I go," he sings, in a throaty, rough tenor. "For I want you to know, that I'm looking for romance."

He plays through the next measure several times in a loop, giving Chris time to jump in. 

When he does his voice is clear as bell and high, and Darren forgets to breathe.

"I bring you a song, in the hope that you'll see...when you're looking at me, that I'm looking for love." 

"I'll have a couple of friends help us flesh out the middle verses, it sounds better with the background harmonies. That combined with the urgency of the chorus on the violin will kick ass. But let's--I want to rock that harmony, so--" 

He begins playing again and they continue together, their voices blending--not perfectly, but definitely beautifully.

"I'm seeking that glow only found when you're young and it's May, only found on that wonderful day when all longing is through. I'm seeking that glow only found when a thrill is complete, only found when two hearts gently beat to the strength of a waltz that's both tender and new."

Chris is staring at him. 

He smiles, continuing alone, "I bring you a song for I'm seeking romance..."

"I need a second," Chris breathes, eyes wide and so green.

"Sorry, I forget what breaks are when I'm--"

"No, it's okay." He sits down on the piano bench next to Darren, who shoves over eagerly. "Go ahead."

They sing together, "You're by my side, there's a moon up above, it shines with a light that's so mellow and bright, it's easy to see that tonight we shall fall in love."

"I bring you a song, for I'm seeking romance," Darren finishes, letting the last two words tremble in the air between them. He's really not trying to project (he takes music way too seriously to turn every romantic song into a serenade--key word "every"), but it's hard. He's kind of a fourteen year old boy about Chris.

Chris' voice is amazing. He can't get over it. He finds himself more excited about that than anything else.

"Holy shit, Colfer," he breathes, turning to face him. "Badass."

"I'm rough, off-pitch, and two breaths behind," Chris says, looking down at the piano keys.

"You can work on that, though," Darren says. "Look, let me hook you up with a senior or something, lots of them are training to be vocal coaches--"

"Not--not right now, okay, I just--I'm not ready." He sighs. "I'm not really a singer, Darren, I just--I prefer writing. I don't want to be in front of--"

"Hey," Darren says, sliding a hand across Chris' back and around the curve of his waist. "This is supposed to be fun. If it's not, you shouldn't do it." The last thing he wants is to peer pressure Chris into doing something he has no desire to do.

"It was kind of fun," Chris admits, smiling shyly at him with a sideways glance. "You--you're great."

Darren smiles. "I'm enthusiastic. You're talented."

"Okay, enough compliments. My ego needs no stroking." He stands, gathering his sheet music and his bag. "I've got class. Coming to Ashley's birthday party tonight?"

"Yep," Darren answers, watching him go with a tiny wave. He sits at the piano with his fingers on the keys, staring off into space until the next class kicks him out. 

The worst part about it is, he has no idea how Chris feels about him right now. 

There's just something so closed up and elusive about Chris, the real Chris; just when Darren thinks he's made progress understanding the guy he realizes that he's still got a long way to go.

 

*

 

Darren smokes a little at the start of the party, just to loosen up. He isn't planning on drinking because it's a week night and he has an early as fuck rehearsal tomorrow. He spends most of the party crammed into the corner of one of two functional sofas in the room, talking to friends and just chilling.

Chris does find him eventually, and it's obvious that he has no concern about the week night issue; he's tipsy, flushed red nose and wandering gaze and all.

He falls into Darren's lap and wiggles until the person next to Darren shifts over, plopping his butt onto a cushion but slinging his legs over Darren's lap, and putting one arm around the back of the couch behind Darren's shoulders.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," he says, smiling; Chris' legs and Chris' arm feel really good.

"Hi," Chris breathes, putting his head on Darren's shoulder.

They talk about nothing for a while.

And then Chris leans close to his ear to be heard better over the noise of the party. "I lied to you."

"Yeah?"

Shit, are they gonna do this now?

"No one--no one told me that you made fun of me. I was just jealous of you."

Chris is going to regret this in the morning.

"Jealous how?" he can't help but ask.

"You got the liberal parents. The endless resources. Permission to pursue whatever creative thing you wanted. Everyone loves you, has always loved you. People throw themselves at you. Want to be around you. It's so easy for you. I've--it's taken me a whole semester to just settle in and you already own this place. You barely do homework and your teachers still praise you, and it drives me nuts. It feels like I have to work ten times as hard to just--come close."

Darren frowns. He has never, ever viewed the situation this way, and almost everything Chris just said surprises him. "I--I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt that way."

"I know that now," Chris replies, slurring just a little. His breath is warm against Darren's ear. "Before I just thought you were flaunting it in my face on purpose."

"Are you still mad at me for all that?" It hurts to think about it.

"A little bit," Chris admits. The arm he has around Darren's shoulders shifts, and his fingers drift over Darren's upper arm. "But I'm trying not to be."

Darren shivers. The warmth of Chris' body had felt good in a localized way when he'd sat down, but now the buzzing heat has spread and Darren can feel it everywhere. He's not drunk, so it's harder to cope with the onslaught of sensations. He kind of wants nothing more than to put his mouth on Chris' impossibly long, pale throat. 

Knowing that Chris had been and still is a little upset with him makes him want to do something completely crazy to make that stop. He has to make Chris like him. Even if that means hearing about all the things Chris doesn't like about him.

The hand that's on his arm migrates to the back of his head. Chris tangles his fingers in Darren's hair, tugging at the curls.

"Your hair is ridiculous," Chris sighs against his ear, sending chills down his body. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"You should tell me everything you don't like about me," Darren blurts. "You should--if it makes you feel better. Like a--a punishment. With words." He nods, face burning, feeling stupid. He stares down at Chris' free hand in his lap, at the black cuff around his left wrist. "And then we'll be even?"

He feels Chris breathe a little faster against his neck and realizes too late that something is happening and he is, as usual, two steps behind.

"Just with words?" Chris whispers, and kisses his neck.

Oh fuck.

"Please, please tell me you're," Chris mumbles, dragging his tongue across Darren's earlobe.

Whatever he was about to finish that sentence with is lost when Darren turns and kisses him on the mouth, sloppy and fast. Chris inhales sharply, gripping Darren's curls harder and pulling him in.

"Let's do that, let's do--without words?" Darren suggests when they break for air.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Chris kisses him with each curse, pushing a tongue into his mouth. Darren opens hungrily, letting him in. Chris' nose smashes his glasses up his face and smudges them but he is beyond noticing that kind of shit right now.

"Is there somewhere we could...?"

"Come on," Chris says, pulling him to his feet.

 

*

 

There's a powder room in the finished basement that Ashley has apparently not told her guests about.

Darren doesn't have the luxury of taking it in, as the second the door is shut and the light flicked on Chris slams him back into it and pushes his arms above his head.

"You have hidden depths," he gasps as Chris kisses and bites his neck. "Kinky, hidden depths."

Chris hums affirmatively and their mouths find each other. Darren pushes one hand up the back of Chris' shirt and then down the seat of his pants, hauling him in so that they can grind their bodies together.

"Fuck," Chris hisses, humping him into the door.

He has no clue what the fuck he's doing. And strangely finds himself unconcerned about that fact, because Chris seems to know exactly what he wants. There's something about that imbalance that makes Darren comfortable, comfortable and horny as fuck.

"Gonna punish you," Chris says, thick and rough. "D'you want that? Did you mean it?"

"Yes, fuck yes."

Chris takes him by the back of his neck and pulls him away from the door. He half-sits on the edge of the sink and pushes Darren to his knees.

Oh, fuck.

The hand on his shoulder finds his neck again and tugs. "Come here." He shifts forward between Chris' thighs, putting his hands on them when he settles. His skin is on fire and his mind a wonderful, perfect blank of sexual arousal.

"Um, what--"

"I want you to suck me," Chris exhales.

Shit, shit, shit.

He kind of wants that, too. But it's happening really fast. Chris' jean-clad legs are spread in front of him, and Chris is hard, palming himself and thumbing the button on his pants as he stares down at Darren.

"I've never done this before," he admits, finally, eyes wide and turned up at Chris through smudged glasses. "I--I want to but in case I fail majorly at it--"

Chris pulls, bringing Darren's face to the hard ridge of his zipper. Darren freezes, inhaling and shaking and so turned on by the way Chris is just manipulating him that he can't think. He nuzzles his face against Chris' bulge, panting.

"You want it, though," Chris breathes, scrubbing at Darren's scalp. "Want my cock in your mouth. Want to make me feel good, make up for what a shit you were--"

"God, yes, please, let me."

"Take me out of my pants," he replies.

Darren scrambles, undoing Chris' fly and tugging down the elastic waistband of his underwear. He tries not to think too much about it--he does his best work when he's flying off of the seat of his pants, after all. Chris' cock is long and slender and bobs when it's allowed freedom, the shaft brushing Darren's cheek.

Chris wraps a hand around himself and strokes down, letting Darren sit back. "You like the attention you get, huh. Little showoff." He rubs the head of his cock across Darren's mouth and Darren inhales sharply, lips falling apart. He wants to lick so bad that it hurts. God, Chris smells good, the silky head of his hard cock feels so good. He whimpers, trembling on his knees.

He isn't prepared when Chris slaps his cheek with the length of his dick the first time. "Answer me, Darren."

"I--I do, I like it, I fucking love it." 

Another slap, this time on the other cheek. Darren's cock throbs in his pants. God, why does he like that, he doesn't even understand--

Another slap. "Bad. You're so bad, you deserve this."

"Chris, please."

"Open your mouth." He pants, eyes sliding half-shut as he feeds the head of his cock into Darren's mouth. "No teeth. Just take it." He pushes, and pushes, and finally pulls Darren in, until his whole cock is in Darren's mouth, the head of it almost brushing the back of his throat. A panicky, can't breathe feeling makes Darren go still. "Fuck, your mouth. Gonna use that pretty mouth so hard."

So it's less of a blowjob and more Chris fucking his mouth. It goes wet fast because Darren can't breathe or pause so he drools everywhere, and Chris is impatient, holding him by his hair and thrusting into his mouth.

"Okay?" Chris asks, groaning, as he begins to go faster, hips off the sink and pistoning back and forth. He accidentally slides into Darren's throat, making him gag, and then pulls out to give Darren a chance to reply.

"Fucking amazing," Darren growls, licking and kissing the salty head. Fuck, he wants it back in his mouth now.

"Wait," Chris gasps, leaning back on his hands. His face is bright red and sweating, hair lank over his forehead, belly heaving. He looks wrecked, closer than maybe Darren thought he was. "Would you finger me?"

"Fuck," Darren breathes, rubbing his hands up and down Chris' thighs. "Fuck, of course, how--"

"I like it when I'm--when I come, it feels so good. Second." He fumbles around under the sink, shifting aside bottles and boxes, and comes up with some kind of ointment. "This is good."

Darren grabs the jar, twists the cap off, and scoops out a glob. He stares at Chris' body, mind reeling with the desire to remove every stitch of clothing, but he'll settle for stripping him out of those jeans, at least. He lets them and Chris' underwear pool around Chris' boot-covered ankles and reaches out to grasp his cock in the hand that isn't covered with ointment.

Chris whines, head falling back. "Oh fuck your hand, shit--" He pants. "S-stop, just--" He lifts his balls and spreads his thighs. "Fingers, please."

So, as it turns out, Darren is pretty fucking awesome at this. It's kind of like figuring out a new instrument, which is familiar and fun. As instructed he warms Chris up, rubbing him outside for a while with slippery fingertips, and only when Chris breathes out and pushes down does he push up, breaching the hot, tight circle of muscle once and then twice as his fingers sink inside.

Chris gasps and twitches the whole way, cock leaking, fluid dribbling down the shaft. Darren licks the wetness away, breathing heavily.

"Oh my god, right there," Chris says, squeezing himself, and then begins to jerk himself. "Oh god yes, Darren, so fucking good, you can--faster."

Darren twists his wrist and works his fingers in and out, faster as Chris opens up around him. He wants to suck Chris at the same time but he thinks if he did he'd sacrifice doing one or the other thing completely well, so he sticks with the fingering and--well. Chris isn't exactly complaining, his cock in one hand and his balls in the other.

"So hot, Jesus, Chris."

"More. More, okay?"

Darren adds a second, and then a third finger, and it seems he can do no wrong with this. He twists and thrusts, twists and thrusts.

"Crook your--up and in, just a little--" He does, and Chris is reduced to gibberish. "Fuckfuckfuck." His hips writhe hungrily forward and down and around, fucking himself on Darren's fingers. "Oh god, oh god I'm going to come." 

Darren would be thinking about how hot it is a lot more if he could just take his mind off of the visual of his fingers being swallowed up over and over by Chris's body greedily taking them deeper.

"Use--use your other hand. Jerk yourself off."

That he doesn't need to be told twice.

He comes fucking his own fist a few minutes later, four fingers buried in Chris' ass.

Chris' orgasm happens before Darren can even ask if he wants to be swallowed or--something else. Chris' pelvis jerks forward and he drops his balls so that he can twist Darren's curls between his fingers. He comes hard, long ropes of white that land on Darren's hair, on his glasses, on his face, fucking everywhere.

Chris jerks himself through it, shuddering, dribbling lastly over his own fist.

There is no way in hell that moment could ever be anything but awkward, and it is. They don't talk, but Chris does use the wet wipes that are under the sink to clean Darren off with slow, careful motions. 

Eye contact is difficult at first, but by the time Darren, his glasses, his hair, and his fingers are clean, he feels relaxed enough to lean in and kiss Chris.

"You're kind of a crazy person," he says, smiling.

"I'm wondering why you aren't running screaming right now, actually."

"It was hot?"

"I don't usually--just do that without asking first, I--"

"You were drunk. See also: crazy person." Darren kisses him again, and then the tip of his nose, and then the curve of his jaw. "I liked it. I like you." He pulls back, staring up at Chris' face. "I like you a lot, Chris."

"I like you, too," Chris says, drawing him off of the floor so that they can kiss face to face.

"Would you like to go out some time? Coffee, pastry, sandwich--" He grins, tugging Chris' wristband with two fingers. "I could pick out a matching cuff?"

Chris blushes. "Oh my god, you--"

"I'd look hot, what?"

"Let's start with coffee, okay?"

"Whatever you want," Darren says, shrugging, grinning. Chris is looking at him, eyes brimming with affection, and that's more than enough for him right now.

 

*

 

Their duet is the talk of the campus. Darren really had no idea that it was going to be such a big deal. He'd hoped that people would like it, but the turn out far exceeded his expectations.

Vanessa is a kickin' violinist, of course, and the small group of people they got together to sing the chorus and background vocals--all friends of hers--are amazing.

His and Chris' harmony, as a result of weeks of practicing, is fucking flawless. The simple flirty, romantic choreography draws shouts and whistles and applause from the packed quad. It's filmed from several angles so they get to watch their performance many times after the fact.

It's not the coolest gig Darren's done since coming to college but it's definitely up there in terms of raw talent and execution. He's high off of the success after, surrounded by dozens of their friends, and carried away on a sea of people to the local dive bar where upper classmen sneak them drinks.

Chris has one arm around his waist, fingers stroking softly over the sweaty skin of his lower back, and all he has to do is twist around and kiss up under Chris' jaw to get his full attention.

"Who have you told?" Chris asks, shouting in his ear to be heard over the din.

"Uh, was I not supposed to?"

It had never occurred to him to keep their dating a secret. And besides, he's pretty sure that singing a Disney love song while performing romantic choreography had sort of given up the plot.

"So, everyone?"

He clears his throat. "Uh, yeah."

Chris laughs, nodding. "Gotcha."

"Not pissed at me?"

"God, no. Saves me the stomach-churning embarrassment."

Darren smirks. "Fuck, hold back that romanticism, I can only take so much."

"I mean--that's not what I meant, I just--don't do well with public announcement--things."

"You were awesome tonight," Darren counters. "Fucking awesome."

Chris' eyes are soft when they meet his. "You know what I meant. I am like the most socially backwards person ever. I simultaneously judge everyone but want everyone to like me."

"You don't say. I surely wouldn't know that, as our relationship had such a perfect, non-judgemental start," he shoots back, smirking, poking Chris with the pointy end of the umbrella from his drink.

"I'm about done here," Chris says, waggling his empty drink. "Can we disappear?" 

Darren turns on his bar stool, glancing through the crowd. Chris' roommate is in attendance and its not likely that he'll turn down booze, so--

"I think so."

Chris seems to have thought the same thing. "He looks committed. Want to go back to my room?" He ducks his face against Darren's hair, nuzzling up close while pulling on a curl. "Wanna be with you right now."

Gah. How does he do that? Socially awkward Bambi one second, fucking dominant sex god the next.

It's kind of unfair how some people get all the skills.

 

*

 

Darren holds the opinion that dorm rooms are possibly the least sexy place to fuck, ever. They're cramped and disgusting and half the time falling apart at the seams. Chris and his roommate aren't dirty people, thankfully, and his side of the room at least doesn't smell like week-old laundry or bong water.

Alright, shut up. So Darren's dorm room probably smells like those things all the time. He totally owns his hypocrisy He's glad to, so long as they always go back to Chris' room to have sex. The fact that his room is empty and they can lock the door and be alone right now is definitely working in its favor.

Chris starts kissing him in the hallway even before they enter, and by the time they reach the bed Darren is wrapped around him like a vine, pawing his jacket off as he kicks his shoes away.

"Mmmm," Chris hums, hooking his fingers in Darren's waistband and turning them. He falls back onto the mattress of his twin-sized bed and Darren falls with him, straddling his waist. Chris' hands blaze a trail up his thighs and around his waist, pulling him down for more kissing. 

Shirts come off between a giggle and a long, wet kiss, and pants not long after, and Darren breathes in his ear, "Wanna be under you."

This is never a problem.

Chris rolls him over and presses him into the mattress.

There's no stress in his life that can't be melted away by Chris warm and hard between his legs, he's found. It's like scratching a puppy behind the ears; he just melts, goes easy and happy, feels his muscles droop with relief.

Chris rolls his underwear down his legs and Darren pushes Chris' just under his ass and--fuck right there, god yes, as their cocks line up and grind together. Chris inhales sharply and Darren noses along his shoulder and fuck, how is this so perfect, how is it so perfect every time?

They rub together for a while, no hands, Chris kissing him and his hands squeezing Chris' ass.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Darren whimpers, wrapping a leg around Chris' waist.

Chris draws it out until their bellies are slick with pre-come and only then does he push a hand under Darren's ass and haul him up so that his legs spread wider. "Let me fuck you," he breathes, rolling Darren's balls in his hand.

"Please, yes, fuck."

He gets a bottle of lube from under his bed and a condom from his wallet; Darren puts the condom on him while he goes south with the lubricant, massaging the baby soft skin behind Darren's balls.

"'M'good, don't--just, in, okay? Just wanna feel you inside me," Darren says breathlessly, hips churning.

His favorite part is always the burning stretch and the first few minutes after, and he likes it when they rush a little; when he's too wet and stretched it feels like less, and when it takes too long he gets numb in certain places and overly sensitive in others. He just likes when it's fast and dirty and frantic.

Chris fingers him for a few minutes and then when neither of them can stand it anymore he breathes out harsh and hot over Darren's throat and pushes his cock in.

"Fuck, just like that," Darren gasps.

"God, you're so tight," Chris says.

"Come on, move. Fuck me."

"Shit."

What scares Darren the most is that it's so easy. Until he met Chris he never, ever thought he'd end up getting fucked in the ass on a regular basis and liking it. He never thought he'd make the noises he makes, or love the way that Chris gets off on holding him down. He never thought that it could create this little intimate world around them that keeps out every tiny stress and doubt.

He never thought he could love someone like this, and it sort of terrifies him.

The bed squeaks softly as Chris bottoms out, Darren's body letting him in as far as he can go. The stretch and fullness and scrape over his prostate feel fucking amazing, and getting to touch Chris' pale, slender body everywhere is just the icing on the cake.

He lets his hands wander low, brushing them over Chris' trembling, sweaty skin. He edges the tips of his fingers between Chris' cheeks, brushing them over his hole.

"Want my fingers?" he asks, breathing heavily.

"Oh my god, at the--at the same time?"

"You come so hard from that, it would be--"

"Shit, shit, yes." They've never done it before like that but, fuck.

Darren gets his fingers slippery and uses the momentum of Chris' pelvis fucking between his legs to get his fingers inside. It takes a little bit of awkward shuffling but finally he's knuckle-deep and Chris goes nuts on top of him, fucking down hard into him and riding his fingers at the same time.

"Oh my god, oh my god, Darren--"

Darren wraps his calves under Chris' ass and pulls, dragging him higher, twisting his fingers deeper, faster. It sends a sudden thrill of power through him to make Chris fall apart like that.

"Yeah?" he breathes, biting Chris' shoulder. "Gonna come for me? Come in my ass?"

"Darren," Chris moans, thrusting faster.

"Yeah," Darren murmurs, pushing a third finger inside and fucking deep. "So fucking big in me, love your cock."

Chris shudders when he comes, hands flying for purchase on the edge of the mattress. He lets out a high-pitched snarl when it's over, slamming hard into Darren one last time. "Fuck."

Darren is all kinds of proud when he pulls away, nipping at Chris' bottom lip. "Awesome idea?"

"Awesome idea," Chris sighs, then laughs, slumping down and gathering Darren close.

They slide side by side to cool and clean off, tissues and kisses exchanged, and then it's all too easy to pull the blanket over their bodies and cuddle up together, Darren's back to Chris' front.

"I am stupid crazy about you," Darren says into the silence, apropos of nothing. It's just been building in him all week, and he needs to get the words out.

"I agree with the words stupid and crazy without hesitation," Chris answers.

Darren laughs, kicking him in the shin. "Give a little, Christopher."

There's silence, and then Chris kisses through his curls to the bare skin on the back of his neck. "I'm no good at this." His lips graze Darren's earlobe. "But--me too."

"I'll take that," Darren says, and gets comfortable in his boyfriend's arms.


End file.
